Canada

Canada Day


“Happy Canada Day!”

The interesting thing about this phrase, which you hear repeatedly from adults and children throughout the day, is that I never hear its equivalent in the States on the 4th of July. Throughout the parade this afternoon you would hear people using it as a greeting, as a statement of the day, and as a joyous pronouncement. I don’t bring this up to imply that Americans are less patriotic or less respectful of the birth of their country than Canadians are, but I found it interesting that we don’t give the day its verbal due in the same manner. But Canadians are no more knowledgeable about their country than their American counterparts as a recent article in the Edmonton Journal notes that only 3% of Canadians can name all of the provinces (and there are only 10) and though the majority of Canadians believe that the Maple Leaf symbolizes their country best at least 35% believe that Tim Horton Timbits are symbolic as well.

We took Katy to the parade in town today. It was just like any small town parade I have ever been to on the 4th of July with tractors, horses, antique cars, the local fire department and politicians. People threw candy at the crowd which children ran to collect and then deposit in the plastic sacks they brought along just for that purpose. One of the few differences I noted were bagpipes. Several different bagpipe groups marched at different points in the parade and provided the only music I really heard. Another thing that struck me was how polite the onlookers were. Whenever I have taken my daughter to a parade in the past the streets were lined with people. Adults heedlessly blocking the views of people who had arrived and seated themselves early or ignoring small children who wanted to get through to the candy being thrown from those in the parade. I have witnessed preteen and older kids scoop up candy meant for wee ones and even snatch it practically out of the hands of the littlest of children. Today there was no disrespect. No one standing in front blocking the view. Two boys about ten and eleven offered candy to my daughter when it became clear to them that she wasn’t getting any as they were faster than she was. 

We walked from the parade site to the afternoon festivities. We encountered lines at nearly every stop. There was a line at the only restroom at the gas station. It was a unisex washroom, and one of the girls working had to hold up the line further when it was made known to her that a bit of cleaning needed to be done. No one grumbled or complained, but continued to wait  their turn. At the Anglican church there was a kids’ festival with the kinds of games and plastic prizes I remember from the ice cream socials of my Catholic elementary school days. Again, pleasantry. We next wandered over to Legacy Park so that Katy could take a turn at the “Jumpy Thing” (we call them bounce houses below the 49th). It was a very long line and the family in front of us reminded me quite a bit of the families of my former students on the east side of Des Moines. Dad was missing his top two front teeth and nearly every word out of his mouth to his wife was rude or dismissive. Mom had the beginnings of a goatee and ran back and forth from the line where her husband and two small boys waited to some distant place to fetch them food. For one horrified moment I realized that Katy was going to take her turn in the “Jumpy Thing” with these boys but while they clearly didn’t get along with each other, they were quite nice to my child even to the point of helping her in the puffy plastic play area.

After dinner Rob taught Katy how to make S’mores, and though she was adamant that she didn’t like roasted marshmallows, she loves S’mores. During dinner she had bet us that she would still be awake when it was time to head out for fireworks and stubborn chip off the block that she is, she was.

The citizens on patrol parking cars at the park did such an awful job that Rob decided to high tail it out before we got well and truly stuck there. The Boy Scouts and their parents at the Iowa State Fair do a better job parking cars frankly.

We ended the day next to the North Saskatchewan River in the parking lot for the city’s tennis club and watching the fireworks. They didn’t start until 11PM because it wasn’t dark of enough. Even at 11:30 when we pulled out and headed back for home, it was still light off to the western horizon.

The quote for the day is a bit of a tease on my husband. He sniffed a bit when I told him my selection for today and indignantly retorted that, “Canadians kill with kindness.” He is right. Happy Canada Day.

The Mall


The mall in West Edmonton is one of those mega-malls. Mega is the key word. There is a small amusement park and a water-park on site as well as an IMAX theater,  car wash, casino and a replica of Columbus’s Santa Maria. We went with my best friend and her two children who are here for the wedding. The first thing I said to Rob when we walked in via the Bourbon Street entrance was, “Let’s never come here again.”

I am not an anti-mall or even an anti-shopping person. I love malls. I like shopping that doesn’t involve being outdoors and exposed to the elements Getting in and out of the car with a child is wearying and so one stop anything is always better. Edmonton’s mega mall was at one time the largest in the world though I believe that the one in Minneapolis now enjoys that distinction. The first thing I noticed was something I have seen all over the area so far in that doorways are smoking havens here. So, after you hold your breath long enough to run that foul gauntlet and make it inside, you will find that it still smells somewhat ……bad…..and that the smell doesn’t improve so much as it just morphs into some other bad smell as you wander from here to there. Thank goodness for olfactory fatigue.

Like most malls of any great size, it is hard to hear. Sounds echo and assault. It is too narrow. Dodging people becomes an objective that overrides window shopping. Strollers are hazardous to child and passersby alike. Teenagers and younger adults are less bearable as they travel in small packs and add to the generally deafening atmosphere.

After coercing the girls (ages 9, 5 and 4) into allowing a bit of necessary wedding shopping, we took them to the amusement park. My friend proved again why she is the best by offering to shepherd the kids around so Rob and I could go off on our own for a late lunch which led us to the food court, an even more smelly destination but romantic lunches are about the participants more than the locale. Anywhere I can spend a bit of uninterrupted time gazing into my love’s eyes and talking about life it’s all good.

Hooking up with my friend and the girls, we spent another hour navigating the amusement park and satiating the children’s need for thrill and terror before heading back to the hotel to drop off our friends and head over to Montana’s to meet with Rob’s older daughter, Farron.

Montana’s is a meat restaurant. Dead carcass of all kinds, mainly the mooing variety, are offered up in a variety of ways. I used to eat dead animal myself and still eat fish on occasion, but after stomach issues forced me to modify my eating habits and diet I gave more thought to what it is that I was really putting into my mouth. Flesh is flesh and I am even beginning to think that fish is probably a bad idea. Digression finished. Farron is a cook at Montana’s and we thought she would be working but as it turned out she was attending the dinner portion of a stagette at the nearby Moxie’s, so we spent time with her there.

It was, in retrospect, the kind of day that normal people spend, entertaining out of town friends, occupying children with weekend diversions, and relaxing at the dinner table with family. Normality. Once just a concept and now a reality, of sorts, again.

Finding My Way


Doing the stay at home mom thing was my part-time job over long holidays and during the summer. It was not something I took seriously, and I don’t say this to belittle it as an occupation. Raising a child and taking care of the basic and not so needs of a family is not for the lazy, the weak or the slow of mind. I base this observation on the years I spent, poorly, attempting to manage a household, child and a full-time job. None of which I managed to do well simultaneously and can say with all honesty that when push came to shove it was household that got the boot every time…..because it was hard work. Hard thankless unpaid work.

Yesterday I made my first trip into the Fort without Rob. Katy and I had an appointment for haircuts, and I needed to stop by the florist’s to touch base on arrangements for the wedding. I map-quested the directions and managed with only one misdirection. Today was another story. I need to go the library and the post office which ironically sit next to each other though the are accessible on opposite blocks. Library not a problem, but I had the wrong directions for the post office and being low on frustration tolerance still, I just gave up and went on to the next errand on the list. But, you know how after you have failed at something everything that come next takes on a slightly tinged with impending doom aura? 

Shopping is something that is becoming math-like for me. Despite my best intentions to block out all things American when it comes to money and other units of measurement, I find paying for things flustering. So much of the money here is in coin, and I really haven’t spent enough time looking at it to ascertain the values of the dizzying array of colors, shapes and sizes. So between monetary transactions and having to ask OnStar for directions to the post office, I felt quite like an idiot by the time I left town for home. The drive back is long enough that I was able to put some of the mood behind me and then happy conversation with Jordan over a lunch of leftovers banished the rest of the inadequacy fears, but I still feel a bit silly and think I should be catching on to this whole “being in a new country thing” a bit quicker.

It’s odd to feel as though you are right where you belong and like a fish our of water at the same time. I remind myself that I have accomplished some near Herculean things in the past couple of months, and it is normal to want to catch my breath a bit, but there is a part of me that has always met challenges and new things head on and  wants to charge right in and be perfect now.

As far as I have come, there are still things to do and places yet unknown. Patience not being a virtue of mine (something I actually pride myself on a bit at times), I know that I will have other moments like those today when I admitted defeat and called first Rob and then OnStar. It’s okay, I guess. Columbus probably asked for directions too. Well, maybe he didn’t. He was trying to find India after all. He could have used OnStar. They have turn by turn directions you know, but they can’t help with units of measurement thing.